


The Link

by cretaceousEagle



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aliens, Biology, Colonization, Death, F/F, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, Good vs. Evil, Hard Scifi, LGBT, M/M, Magic, Mayflower, Medicine, Memphis, Military, Religion, Robots, Science, Technology, drones, lots of death, not on earth, space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-11 04:19:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11706675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cretaceousEagle/pseuds/cretaceousEagle
Summary: The story of the Mayflower colonizing Memphis and discovering that magic and technology can exist together





	1. Orbital Day

**Author's Note:**

> Chief Editor's Notes: This is a scifi story that will eventually become more of a fantasy story. Thank you for reading and please give all the feedback in the world!

Chapter 1: Orbital Day  
“So, Oracle, what lies do you have for me today?”

The colony ship Mayflower came into a shadow as they entered orbit around the planet Memphis on the night of June 24, 2453. Captain Samantha Powell stared at a command prompt on her computer station. The prompt read “Deploy Drones”. Once pressed would initiate the first human colonization of a planet. This was a complex process of course; the drones were one of thousands of processes to be undertaken over the next five years as the people of the Mayflower prepared to create the first human colony. She pressed the holographic button and cheers erupted around her.  
Jackson Rigsby cheered with everyone else but cut himself short and recomposed himself as quickly as he could. An instinctual check of his top shirt button displayed years of discipline in one gesture. He proceeded to check deployment reports on the first wave of five thousand drones. Within a month it was hoped that a planetary life check and mapping report would be completed. Many hoped having plants on Memphis would diversify the greenhouse stock they had endured on their journey. Atmospheric analysis, utilizing a solar telescope, determined habitability over two hundred years ago. Due to the uncertainties of solar wind in space, the telescope only managed to get within three light years of the planet, so detailed mapping was impossible. The drones’ launch would need to be checked individually, as each had to be approved for their tasks, once a safe launch was confirmed. As the last officer with security clearance on duty during the Orbiting Day ceremony, this tedious task fell to him.  
“Acting first mate Rigsby, please begin drone launch confirmation report,” Captain Powell instructed with clarity. Knowing this moment was being recorded for history.  
“Analysis being conducted now. The first two thousand drones only have twelve failures to launch and two failures to ignite engines. Only two drones seem lost at this time. Working on the remaining three thousand and directing engineering to inspect the twelve launch failures,” Rigsby said louder than he needed to. He was scrambling to remember his training and respond with commanding confidence at the same time. His failure to do either warranted a look of concern from the captain.  
“Decent work Rigsby. Take all the time you need for the remaining three thousand. The next drone deployment isn’t for another twelve hours. Lieutenant Commander Wallace, do you read me?” Powell asked radioing her second in command in the viewing station.  
“I read you Captain. The planet is dark tonight but it is refreshing to be in something’s shadow for a change. The crew are enjoying this moment,” Harold Wallace replied as planned.  
“Enjoy the view Commander. Over an out,”

“Why are you in here?” a scolding voice rang through the darkness of the botanical research lab.  
“I uhhh, was taking a shortcut to the drinks being served at the viewing station,” Shinzo Sato said, placing some seeds down on the floor as quietly as possible.  
“Is that why you are bent over so close to the ground?” Martha said turning on the lights.  
“I had just fallen before you came in here,” Shinzo replied.  
“Come on what was it this time?” Martha inquired.  
“Carrot seeds,”  
“Seriously? What in stellar gravity’s name would you need carrot seeds for? I mean the last time I caught you with grapes and assumed you were trying for a secret winery. Well, what is it?” Martha snapped. Her attachment to her well organized, genetically pure seed vault was rivaled only by the heliographer’s attachment to data on Memphis’ sun, Uruk. Since coming within 25 AU of the star they had been tracking every possible measurement of the star. The entire ship was buzzing for the past year, as the deceleration approach began and research picked up in every department as data came in, probes were sent out, and rovers were tested for functionality at a racetrack near the center of the Mayflower. Martha had quietly passed the time by breeding more seeds than necessary for harvest as part of her planning the acreage needed for the first colony on Memphis. Shinzo repeatedly stole some of the bounty for his soil experiments.  
“I was going to see if our carrots would have adverse growth effects when grown in soils containing nematodes,” Shinzo said picking the carrot seeds package up.  
“Where did you get nematodes? No agricultural parasites are on the ship?” Martha said.  
“We may or may not have had their genetic sequences in the wildlife database,” Shinzo said.  
“So, for this experiment you broke into my lab, the wildlife lab, the gene growth experiment chamber, somehow got the gene growth chamber for enough time to grow a nematode, and made enough excess soil to try and grow carrots?” Martha said in disbelief at Shinzo’s commitment.  
“Well the gene growth lab gals love a chance to make something more than plants and algae. They actually gave me the idea this time,” Shinzo said smirking.  
“You are ridiculous; you know that? Fine, take them. I’d like the study report when you are done. Oh, and any seeds you raise I’d like them back.” Martha went to her desk to check on the harvest data for the Orbital Day celebration. She wanted to try and offer French fries made from potatoes in the cafeteria for the science lab employees. 

“You’re on,”  
Harold Wallace stood on the viewing station in front of the ten by thirty feet window. While the Captain held her post during this occasion it fell to him to carry out the more ceremonious parts of Orbital Day. Standing behind him on the edge of the platform were the flags of the United States, the United Soviet Socialist Republics on the outside, the next inner pair were NASA and the Human Alliance Space Agency flags, and looming over his shoulders was the Planetary Colonizing mission flag and the flag of the Mayflower mission. To his right was the Head of Engineering, Bjarne Benedikt, and to his left stood the soon to be Mayor of the first colony, Suzanne May.  
Roughly 3,000 people stood in the viewing station’s Ceres lounge, one of sixteen major civilian areas on the ship. This was the single largest gathering on the ship in over sixty years. The last such event was the Centennial celebration for a hundred years since launching from the Mercury spaceport. The population then was 27,840. Today, at nearly 85% ship capacity, the Mayflower held 34,602 passengers with 30,853 of them being civilians ready to live on Memphis.  
“Today we gather as members of the same species unified in purpose as no other species from Earth has. We approach Memphis with curiosity and an instinctual drive to pursue happiness and a better future. As Homo sapien sapiens we remember our ancestors who lived for generations without a blue sky overhead and with aluminum beneath their feet. Despite these unnatural conditions our parents, grandparents, great grandparents, and for some great great grandparents deserve recognition as pioneers for something greater. As the third colony ship from Earth and the first to arrive at our new home of Memphis our responsibilities are great. Luckily, we will soon be able to take a break and swim at a local river, lake, or ocean of our choosing.  
“Our missions across the stars have endured through the worst possible calamities. The super virus of 2387 could have ended this expedition. Over a thousand engineers, doctors, teachers, botanists, and thinkers died in the unexpected plague that year. I would like a moment of silence for the four generations and 112,746 colonists who served our journey but never reached their destination.”

Harold sat down at the bar once the applause had died down from his speech. The bartender robot scanned his face and began mixing the Lieutenant’s favorite cocktail. The seat next to him was presently occupied by a civilian he hadn’t met before. They leaned in close and whispered “I’m actually terrified. I’ve had nightmares for weeks of dying down there.” Taken aback Harold turned and looked at the civilian; a twenties-ish male face stared back at him. The voice was deceptive; sounded much older than the face implied. Then again not sleeping for a couple weeks might have adverse effects.  
“We are confident everything will go according to plan. So far, the conditions for us are relatively good. You’ll do remarkable things down there. History making,” Harold said with the smile he usually reserved for the Captain.  
“When you moved into the Commander’s quarters did you ever get a strange feeling? Like it wasn’t yours? I feel it; that feeling. We don’t belong down there. I’m also not sure Suzanne is up for the job. She’s a great politician; but what happens when the first kid goes missing down there because they wandered off expecting the safety of the Mayflower and ended up stumbling off a cliff or something?”  
“We have plans for every possible situation. You will be safe. You know, when I moved in to my quarters I did feel strange. I was on the opposite side of the ship; all the stars were different. I’d lay in bed making constellations of my own and wondering if Commander Barker had already made them. Was I stealing his constellations? Still, after a couple days it felt like home,” Harold said reassuringly.  
“The Mayflower is our home, so of course you felt at home there. This planet is… big. I can do the outer rim run in two hours on here. Our first maps say we won’t be able to run around the planet, too many oceans in the way. Maybe if we had you down there…” their voice trailed off as they took gentle hold of Harold’s hand.  
“I think you’ve had enough. What is your name?”  
“Jasper, Lieutenant. I’ve had my fill of alcohol for sure; but that isn’t why I came here tonight,”  
“Let’s take you home, Jasper.”

Almost instantly, a blinding flash of silvery blue filled Nathan’s vision. Leaving the planet’s shadow left the Mayflower on display in its full majesty. Nathan took a breath and then refocused to the task at hand; or rather glove. He had triggered the external launch door for the eleventh drone that had failed to launch. Having worked on them in the engineering bay, he was surprised to see it look so small in the launch tube. The circular launch tube was still three feet in diameter but when fully deployed the drone had over twelve feet in solar voltaic panels.  
The control panel for this section of drone compartments was being operated by his space-walk co-pilot Ralph, about ten feet above his right shoulder. Due to the nuances of holographic projection the panel was an old 22nd century design with a keypad built in just in case the touchscreen should fail.  
“I don’t see any blockages. I’m going to swing over to the left. When I tell you to manually trigger the launch, do so.”  
“Roger that,”  
“Alright do it,”  
Nathan couldn’t hear it, but something had gone wrong, as the external handle he was holding onto shook violently. He spun himself to look at the launch tube and saw the drone wedged at an odd angle in the exit where there had been an open launch tube seconds before. The immediate problem facing Nathan was the broken drone had an opening visible between it and the launch tube. As the drone’s rocket melted the tube’s wall, debris flew out from the gap presently widening from the flames.  
“What do we have for temperature clash between the rocket and the launch tube materials?” Nathan asked engineering control.  
“One moment…. Looks like the launch tube will have issues around 1,500 Celsius and the rocket burns at roughly 1,400 Celsius. Has the tube been breached?” Sarah responded from engineering.  
“By the amount of burning debris being spewed out, I’d say it has. Any fire alarms or air breaches- “  
Nathan only knew he was moving away from the ship. Then he was spinning uncontrollably with the ship coming closer. The sun was beautiful reflecting off Memphis’ surface. The radio didn’t transmit Ralph’s screams as the space-walk lead pilot was cut in half by the drone against the side of the Mayflower’s hull. The drone impact embedded the drone into the ship by about half an inch; but that was enough to hold it in place.

“Commander Wallace where the hell are you?” Samantha said exasperated.  
“I’m just passing the greenhouses,” Wallace replied.  
“Why are you all the way over there? The Ceres lounge is clear across the ship,”  
“I was leaving Jasper’s,” Wallace said.  
“Who is… never mind. We have a casualty. Nathan Brooks was killed by a malfunctioning drone on his space-walk. Get to the bridge now!” Samantha said. She had removed Jackson from his role as commanding security officer and tasked him with prepping the remaining drone launches manually, when he failed to initiate the casualty protocols in the right order. He almost called the family before deploying a casket crew and having a grievance team meet with Ralph and Sarah.

Back in the bridge Samantha was personally arranging the budget for the funeral. Most funerals had static expenses; was just the way of things on a ship that recycled everything. Extravagance just wasn’t possible unless absolutely necessary. The loss of an engineer on duty required more than the minimum. Samantha had known Nathan’s name many times before; and she’d be reminded of them again at his funeral. What she didn’t expect was to be reminded in mere seconds when Bjarne, head of engineering, stormed into the room.  
“Why is my boy dead?!? Why is, the best recruit I’ve had in five years, dead? Do you know why he was the best damn recruit I’ve ever had? Because he was the best engineering cadet we’ve ever had! This was his 39th space excursion, the most for someone only eighteen months in. Why is he dead?” Bjarne cried, in grief and rage.  
“We have a recovery team getting Nathan now, Bjarne. We’re going to look at the drone and find out what happened. Ralph is safe, he and Sarah are both going to be cared for,” Samantha said, hoping she could emote enough to calm Bjarne down.  
“He was twenty-six. What am I going to tell his parents? I should have been on duty. Instead you had me playing mannequin at the Orbital Day ceremony,” Bjarne was becoming redder in the face every second. Samantha turned her holograph projector off and stood up to face Bjarne fully.  
“I cared for Nathan as much as you. I’ve allocated resources for an Honor funeral. I’m going to speak to the parents in a couple of minutes. We are here for you and you can do what work you want to over the next few days. If you need time, any at all, we’re here,” Samantha wasn’t sure if she could get coverage for engineering during this time, but hoped Bjarne’s addiction to work would prevent that problem. Bjarne’s reaction was less than helpful; he screamed as his legs gave out and he sobbed on the floor. The bridge crew’s appreciation for Samantha’s patience became concern for the man who often gave them orders from his research station.  
Samantha gave a look to Harold as he walked in, trying to signal him to stay calm. Bjarne let out another scream and Harold certainly missed his que as he tried lifting Bjarne from under his arms to get him back on his feet.  
“What the hell Bjarne? You are on deck!” Harold said turning Bjarne to face him. It was only then that Harold realized what state Bjarne was in. Unfortunately, it was too late because Bjarne, attempting to get Harold to let him go, punched Harold square in the eye. In the next few seconds instincts took over for at least seven people on the bridge, including Samantha, Harold, and Jackson. The other four leapt into action but the events were over before they could do anything.  
Harold reflexively snapped his elbows and dropped Bjarne to the floor violently and without mercy. His training was deeply rooted in twenty years of daily exercises preparing for any violent incidents on the Mayflower. Samantha knew of Harold’s strength, having trained with him for many of those twenty years. She knew his kicks would deploy next and dove over Bjarne protectively. The chain of command was more hardwired in Harold than his combat training and he pulled his kick at the last second. Unfortunately, his kick landed in Jackson’s shoulder stopping Jackson in mid-stride and tossing him onto Samantha.  
With Jackson rolling off Samantha and exclaiming painful noises, Harold sat down in the nearest chair and Samantha stood up. Bjarne stayed down on the floor flat on his stomach uncertain of what would come next. The room looked to Samantha for what to do next; everyone stood frozen from the sudden excitement. The crew’s thoughts were also paused; the flurry of activity from the drone launches and the recovery operation of Nathan and the drone had taxed their attention spans for the past three hours. This moment was so jarring and riotous, they required reboots from their Captain.  
“Commander Wallace to attention. Bjarne, go where you need to go but you are not to be near the morgue today. Jackson escort him where he is going; get him anything he needs. I have a family to call. Harold take over the drone checklist from Jackson. It’s done, it’s over. Get to work people.”  
Samantha sat down at her station and sighed. Orbital Day was supposed to be one for the history books; instead it was to be marred by tragedy. There were going to be challenges to colonizing this new world – tragedies unplanned. The transition from sturdy aluminum walkways of the ship to the squishy soil on Memphis would be joined with careless mistakes caused by enjoying the experience too much. Samantha knew today was the start of real leadership on her part; until now she had been running a glorified gigantic taxi cab.


	2. Three Days After Orbital Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I sensssssse something… ssssomething new.”

Chapter 2: Three Days After Orbital Day  
“I sensssssse something… ssssomething new.”

The three rows of visitors to Nathan’s funeral were neatly arranged with his family of seven in the center. The odd number of family members was rounded out by Bjarne’s presence at the left end, standing next to Nathan’s older sister. Everyone present saw Nathan’s remains as whole. While the captain, Nathan’s parents, Bjarne, and the recovery crew knew of his severed torso, the funeral caretakers molded a centerpiece mockup that looked like a natural form in the tuxedo Nathan wore for his final goodbye.   
Silence always dominated these gatherings, as goodbyes no longer held the same trauma as they did in the 21st century. The proceedings were a clean, renewing affair, with effects on the entire ship. The flames worked quickly; in less than thirty seconds the fire was off. Another thirty seconds later and the ashes were dusted off the plank his body had rested on. For a further minute, the gathering watched the floor get swept by an automated arm.  
The light turned out and the viewing window reflected the faces of those watching. The family bowed their head and turned to leave the room. Their next destination was the Pluto Greenhouse patio. A digital wall displayed whatever natural environment the family chose as food from the greenhouse was served. All food in the greenhouse was grown with the assistance of the ashes provided by the funerals. After being swept onto a conveyer belt by the robotic arm the ashes were compressed and mixed with a solution until having the consistency of volcanic soil. Asparagus, coffee, and wheat would be grown from Nathan’s remains and served to another mourning family in six months.   
Having already been received by the Captain for a posthumous Served with Honor service, they chose to only have Bjarne join them for the funeral feast. The second row of friends also gathered for the feast to share memories and converse on the happenings of Nathan’s time on the Mayflower. As for the Captain and other crew they left through the door they came in and returned to their stations. 

“All I’m saying is the leadership bias towards LGBT people has limited opportunities for straight couples with children on the Mayflower. Captain Powell is gay, Commander Wallace is gay, Chief Medical Officer Tracey Higgs is bi, same for head of communications, the supply department, and navigations chief. Meanwhile 85% of the Mayflower’s population are straight,” Terrence Walesa said on the 8PM Opinion Hour on Mayflower’s political news program, Shoot for the Stars.   
“These results are indicative of the time covering for child sickness, child care, pregnancy, and maternity and paternity leave. After a child’s birth, a couple gets three years off work to be there for their kid’s formative imprinting. Due to the consistency of family planning gay adoption rates have plummeted over the past 150 years to only 20%. Having three years advantage to more education and promotions isn’t a bias of the system it’s a choice parents choose. Straight people just find having children to be more rewarding than crawling up the leadership ladder,” Hassan Mohammed explained, tension rising in his voice.  
“What we are calling for is equality and an end to the homo-normative prejudices against parents on the Mayflower,” Terrence said raising his voice.  
“There are just jobs straight people won’t do. They choose to have a family. It isn’t prejudice it’s just their choice,” Hassan exclaimed. At this point Terrence and Hassan were talking over one another.  
“It is natural and instinctual for a straight couple to want a child. They shouldn’t be prevented from having leadership roles because of it,”  
“If they don’t apply for the leadership roles what are we supposed to do?”  
“Provide pay equal to leadership roles for the highest serving straight couples,”  
“You want straight reparations for choices they’ve made themselves?”  
“Would that really be so bad? Transgendered individuals have hormones and completed transitions three months after the psychological confirmation. Parents should have the same response time getting into leadership roles after their maternity leave ends. I mean what if gays were punished for having children of- “  
It was at this point that Chief Medical Officer Tracey Higgs turned off the TV in her patient’s room and began looking at a holo-chart displayed from a projector on her wrist.   
“Good morning Mr. Goodwyn. How are you feeling after your med balancing last night?” Tracey said noticing his surgery cocktail was working within normal expectations. Unlike two of her patients this morning his meds were not countering each other. After all the advances in medicine, she found it frustrating that medication interactions still weren’t reliably predictable.   
“I enjoyed a good pee without the tube. My bladder has grown back faster than I expected. You really are a miracle worker.”  
“I’m glad the organ growth isn’t causing discomfort. I’m seeing a potential growth on your new bladder that I’d like to check out. Would you mind if I biopsy it right now?” Tracey said as calmly as possible. Concern grew in Tracey’s mind, as the overnight growth of the bladder was dangerously fast.   
“Sure, sure. If it grows too much feel free to trim it like a haircut,” Mr. Goodwyn said with a laugh.   
Tracey walked over to the wall and slid open a medical manufacturing 3D printer console. Instantly it scanned her face and authorized any orders necessary. After browsing a few menus, she came to order a laser biopsy pen. The laser would cut to its target using a built-in x-ray laser only if Tracey held it in a cone roughly around 90 degrees of the target and two feet away. Once on target, it would bounce off the biopsy without cutting deeper. The laser would bounce back to the pen as a light mirror that would read and deliver information in extreme microscopic detail – even knowing if the cell’s DNA protein replicators were properly functioning. This was a crucial component in determining if cancer was underway. The process took about a minute to complete and the laser cauterized the incision while results were downloaded to Tracey’s holo-band on her arm.  
Sure enough, the bladder growth was uncontrolled and cancerous. Mr. Goodwyn was going to need another emergency bladder grown. Fortunately for every one of the Mayflower’s patients the genetic samples taken by everyone and their parents, grandparents, and great-grand parents allowed the gene growth chamber to have a functioning organ grown within three hours of the first cellular mitosis. The rapid growth was only for emergencies and led to potentially unstable organs. Mr. Goodwyn would have a new transplant in five hours as this bladder would last until then. The extra two hours would make the new organ stable enough to have almost 80% less chance of having uncontrolled growth.   
Her fourteen-hour shift had dragged on her. She smiled as she left the room and approached the medical secretary at the nurse’s station.   
“Room 15 has a Mr. Goodwyn who is going to need a new bladder transplant in five hours. Could you program the robot for operation 382? Also have another biopsy on his bladder in one hour. Who follows my shift?” Tracey asked William.  
William sighed, typed a few more sentences then turned to face Tracey.  
“Yeah, whatever you want. I’ll have Dr. Oporto look at him when she is finished in room 8. She decided they wanted to see if there were any epigenetic effects of cellular death in space on samples taken from that Nathan kid,” William said, approving both the robot operation and ordering the biopsy with five taps on their keyboard which was projected on a felt tablecloth on their desk. Tracey clocked out on her hologram and went to room 8. Her curiosity would keep her from sleep for five more minutes.  
“Have you found anything interesting so far? Tracey said putting her hand on Oporto’s shoulder as a screen covering about six feet of the wall showed details of chemical make-up of the genes from Nathan’s samples, or so Tracey thought.  
“Well I’ve exposed the liver, brain, and heart cells to a Begomovirus. It shouldn’t have had any effect on the cells but the weightless decomposition of the cells somehow led to the Begomovirus finding a way into the cell and replicating in the liver and brain samples. It didn’t last long before the cells were too dead to support the virus. This should only have been possible in our tomato strands from before 2200,” Serina Oporto said spinning in her chair to face Tracey.  
“You know I love it when you go all mad scientist. Any experiments you want to try on me today?” Tracey said leaning in to kiss her wife.   
“I have nine hours left on my shift today. Go home and sleep and I’ll spend my boredom thinking of plenty of ways for us to get petri dish samples growing in the fridge,” Serina said teasing a kiss before committing.  
“You know,” Tracey said, muffled, “that was incredibly creepy and exciting at the same time.”

Racing at 18,000 miles per hour, a drone, uniquely named DAA7667 was settling into its sub-polar orbit at roughly 74 degrees North over Memphis. At 22,000 miles above the planet’s surface the descent angle was stabilized and the drone, now a satellite, deployed several sensors and cameras to begin the mapping phase of the project. Data collection was the top priority for the satellite; as well as renaming itself.   
Due to the loss of fourteen drones in the first launch and seven drones between numbers 5001 and 7667 DAA7667 renamed itself SAA7646. Satellite Atmospheric Acquisition #7646 wasn’t programmed to be surprised by its findings. Whatever readings were collected and stored for transmission after five days of orbit wouldn’t have any significance to SAA7646. The atmospheric data wouldn’t surprise anyone on the Mayflower either. Due to color readings and checks of the planet on approach, a composition of 26% oxygen, 72% nitrogen, and a water vapor content of 1.5% were detected. This was strikingly similar to, but not an exact match to, earth’s atmosphere.   
Yet the mapping camera, exact to two inches per pixel, would find something quite unique. After capturing a hundred miles of ocean, a coastline would have its photo taken. An inlet of roughly sixteen miles would be the starring attraction. Along the edge of the inlet, and at its spear shaped end, would be walls and a city. While the coastline fifty miles North and South, and the hills a hundred miles inland, were encased in snowy white terrain this city was surrounded by lush green fields with farming present.   
SAA7646 wouldn’t be surprised and the data wouldn’t be received on the Mayflower for five more days. Then someone would have to look; not just at the geographical map, but the photos themselves. Once someone did look, however, they would indeed be surprised. In the moment, a supervisor would be called over to look at the data coming into the room. The supervisor would exclaim the finding out of excitement and celebration would take over the people present. From there a chain of events deciding the fate of humanity would unfold across the Mayflower.  
At first unparalleled fervor at the discovery of life – not just life, but intelligent life, a civilization - would consume the ship. Reports and rumors of any and all details on the finding would be disseminated throughout the population like wildfire in an overgrown forest. Then someone would ask a devastating question; one that would put the entire purpose of the Mayflower’s mission in perspective.   
‘Can we colonize an inhabited world?’ Not knowing the right answer many would accept ‘no’ as the answer; and without a clear raison d’etre fear and panic would set in for some. Those few would slack in their work, rebel in thought, and become ardent ‘yes’ advocates, and the clash of ideas would take over conversations. The blissful wonderment of finding life would be replaced with anger and frustration. What the Mayflower pursued as the ultimate course of action would only come after much struggle and a twisting of arms.   
But someone would have to look, and be surprised. 

Commander Wallace, charged with Captain Powell’s duties as she slept, looked over the investigative report on the drone that killed Nathan Brooks. While none of the engineering technical findings made much sense, Harold made himself read the report. One of their crew had died and if anything could be gleaned from the investigation that saved lives in the future, he had an obligation to know.   
A timer flashed over the report he was reading from his holoband reminding him it was time for the Captain’s update on the rovers meant to explore potential colony sites on Memphis. Soil samples, navigability, level terrain, and over fifty other measurements could be handled by the rovers. However, they had to survive the landing and deployment, not fall off cliffs, and complete basic habitability reports before a scouting mission was launched.  
“Commander Wallace to Engineering, please respond.”  
“Hello Commander, you want the rover’s status, correct?” Sarah said.  
“Indeed,”  
“I’ll direct you to the second launch bay. We needed more room to test max speeds in. Bjarne is over there now,”   
“Thank you,” led to a silent pause. Harold waited patiently.  
“Commander? Do we have a connection…” Bjarne said muttering as he fiddled with an earpiece.   
“Yes, hello Chief. What is the max speed we have on these rovers?”  
“That is the interesting thing. So far, we have a wide variance even though the designs are supposed to be exactly the same. We have a low of 15 and a high of 34 so far. We are trying to figure out why the three rovers under 20 are having problems accelerating and maintaining speed,” Bjarne reported.  
“How many above 20s do we have and has equipment testing been completed on them?”   
“Right now, three drills aren’t working on the seventeen rovers we have at acceptable speeds. Because we needed time to get the rovers into the second launch bay other tests like soil analysis are ongoing and should be completed in about thirty minutes. I’ll be honest, it doesn’t look good from an engineer’s viewpoint. A fleet of thirty identical rovers with these many differences gives me doubts about their deployment and surface viability. We don’t really have alternative options though. When they started building these rovers, forty-three years ago, it was a seven-year project just for the first one to reach completion. We could stay on the Mayflower another seven years of course but who wants to do that?” Bjarne said.  
“I agree with your assessment. Do we deploy them all after a period of repairs? What do you suggest?” Harold asked, noticing some glances from the bridge crew at the suggestion of waiting another seven years to deploy a colony.   
“We’ll do the best we can to test and repair broken pieces. Some components for the analysis tests would require alloy and chemical manufacturing that would move deployment for those rovers back by years. We can make the rovers rove effectively within two weeks for the entire fleet. For the good ones, we take each analysis component on a case by case basis on what we’ll need. If it would take more than two weeks we should just launch them if they are ground ready,” Bjarne said.  
“It would be a shame to lose that data collection. Still the mission is to colonize so if we get good visuals and soil samples we should be able to make up the loss by making new equipment up here for seven years. It’ll give the Mayflower crew something to do, other than keep the greenhouses company. I’m going to have this go by Captain Powell and see what she thinks of it. Thank you for the update. I’ll put in a tentative launch window for two weeks from now,” Harold said. He heard Bjarne fidget with the earpiece before the com link was disconnected. 

Suzanne May started the next day as she always did. Once done with her morning routine she stood in front of her door and took a deep breath. Then an appreciative smile broke through her otherwise uninformative features and spread to display a cheerfully possessed woman in her fifties. Then she opened the door. A task she didn’t have to do represented her way of controlling the day. She walked to the Eris Café and sat down in the far corner as always with the morning version of Shoot for the Stars on display from her holoband.   
A waiter approached and scanned her face. Coded in Suzanne’s profile was the same breakfast every day – but so was the request.  
“What may I get you this morning Mayor May?” the robot inquired with a slight bend at the midsection.   
“I’d like my usual please,” Suzanne said with a genuine smile.   
“I’ll be right back with breakfast for you and your guest,” the robot said and it whirred away. Suzanne paused wondering why it would bring food for two. She was sitting alone at the farthest seat from the entrance.  
“Good morning Suzanne,” Samantha Powell said as a curious Suzanne made eye contact with her about ten feet from the table. Samantha sat down and smiled.  
“To what do I owe the honor Captain,”  
“I wanted to tell you that the rovers have been delayed two weeks due to operational inconsistencies. That pushes the colony viability studies by three weeks at least as some of the rovers might be delayed beyond that,” Samantha said flatly.  
“Well you could have told me this, or my secretary, over the coms. Why are you really here?” Suzanne said.  
“I’ve missed you Suzie. This delay gives us another month to try and fix things,” Samantha said reaching across the table. Suzanne pulled her arm back and turned off the morning news.   
“Stop. You can’t do this anymore. I made it very clear this isn’t what I wanted,” Suzanne said sternly. Her prepared smile was gone by this point.  
“Then what do you want? What did you want?” Samantha pleaded.  
“I wanted to be Mayor of the colony. Everyone knows people trust gays in government more than straight people. They think you’re more dedicated. If they knew there was a chance for me to meet a man and have a kid, ten years from now, I would never have won that election. I didn’t tell you because it was easier just to leave. But since we have another month together I will not spend it with you whining about whether I should stay or you should come with me. We are over Sam,” Suzanne said quietly but directly so that Samantha heard every word.   
Samantha fought back tears. She had no idea someone would willfully wound her so much. The fights weren’t disagreements – they were Suzanne escaping a convenient relationship. She lifted herself to her feet slowly and walked away. ‘Just get to your office,’ she told herself. The waiter passed her as she was leaving and paused waiting for a command.   
“Please have the food sent to my office. Thank you,” she said and continued walking.   
Suzanne wiped away a tear and turned on the news once more as the waiter placed her breakfast down and poured some synth coffee.


	3. Chapter 3: Eight Days after Orbital Day

“Something new? Another false heir like last time?”

Martha Lionheart gently pulled a pair of tweezers away from the stem of a bamboo and corn hybrid she had cut into with a scalpel. The growth genes of bamboo and the perfected arts of soil preparation and mist watering allowed for some segmentation to already be forming less than two days from planting. She was hoping to find corn silk in the intranode of the bamboo stalk. The thin strand she was pulling on was her first experimental sample since the sixth year of her greenhouse college training. It was only the bounty of the colony harvest that allowed for Martha to ponder new plant experiments.   
During the journey from Earth to Memphis the Mayflower only grew as much food as was needed. One of the highest priorities in engineering was preventing any waste of water until the first harvestable asteroids in an outer cloud of the Uruk system came within reach of the mining bay. Drones were deployed en masse to attach themselves to various asteroids, and steer them in the direction of the Mayflower. It only took three successful harvests to fill the Mayflower’s storage tanks to capacity.   
Martha’s hold on the silk strand confirmed the genetic tweaking was successful. The corn still wasn’t growing at the rate of the bamboo, but science was a process of small steps forward and many steps back. Her intense focus drove a pulling battle as the strand was attached more stiffly than she expected. The more she pulled the more resistance she felt in her wrist. The strength of the bamboo was clearly increasing with the addition of corn silk. Beginning to shake in her hand the tweezers snapped out of Martha’s grip as the silk withdrew into the bamboo. Did Martha just see that happen? Was she just holding the tweezers too tightly? The beep of the lab door com broke her attention.  
“Hello Dr. Lionheart. I have an update on the carrot seeds you let me borrow,” Shinzo said with excitement clear in his voice. Martha walked across the lab’s center which was empty. Platforms along the wall held everything from potted plants to holoband projectors.  
“Hey Shinzo. How was Katy this morning? Heard Venus was sick all night,” Martha asked unlocking the door. The door opened from the middle and slid left and right instantly. The cool air from the hallway rolled in to the humid lab.   
“Katy held up. Venus was sick and dehydrated. Had a long night. Katy is having even longer days though.”  
“Everything alright at the school? Is Nathan’s kid struggling?”  
“Bradly is doing okay. I mean, he misses his father, you know? It isn’t that though. The fourth graders keep begging for information on the colony mission. Katy had an entire curriculum ready but the rover delay is making the kids restless with anticipation,” Shinzo said while navigating his holoband interface to show data on the nematode carrot experiment.   
“Well it’s only been three days since the rovers were supposed to launch. We’ll have the first data floods today from the mapping drones,” Martha said counting the seeds in Shinzo’s experiment. Shinzo fiddled with his security settings to bring up more information from his extracurricular activities. Unauthorized studies and analysis couldn’t be easily visible in the reports to department heads who might ask questions about resource allocation and kill new ideas.  
“The time between the Great Dying and the dinosaurs is nothing to a kid experiencing the Great Waiting for the colony. So, something weird happened with the nematodes and carrot seeds. At the start of the study, three days after seed planting, several of the seeds started sprouting. That is when I exposed them to the nematodes. The normal feast took place and some seedlings were lost but then I mapped the loss of seeds from the exposure, and well, just look,” Shinzo said displaying a map of seedling failures.  
“What is causing this divide?” and astonished Martha asked. The planting area was five feet by five feet but the nematodes had only infested exactly half the space two and a half feet by five feet. A clear divide between healthy seedlings and the infested area was visible.   
“I’ve checked everything possible. I even looked for radiation somewhere on the ship that might be directed towards my lab. I mean, who knows with something this weird, right? So, I found absolutely no explanation. Also, the nematodes stopped reproducing. In an environment this food rich I expected an explosion. It is almost like they were rationing their side of the area’s seeds,” Shinzo said rapidly.   
Martha was stunned. In her world this was truly an exciting event. Replications of this would need to be undertaken to find out the cause or if it is just a fluke; many scientists would discuss and debate the studies for flaws and potential holes in the logic or outcome. Conclusions would be debated and more research would be conducted. Perhaps, in a year or two, a discovery of nature would be found here, on the Mayflower, in space using earth based organisms. A discovery never made on Earth would be made on the Mayflower – and her name would be next to Shinzo’s on the study.   
She might even earn a promotion to the colony to head up agriculture. Until now she was deemed too good to lose from the greenhouses on the Mayflower. Martha would be needed to find a way to increase output on the Mayflower’s greenhouses if disaster struck the colony’s first two crops. Beyond the lost food a new batch of seeds would need to be preserved as well. In an environment of limited resources each seed was harvested by hand because mechanical harvesting could still lead to losses. While Martha had no possible explanation of what this meant this was her ticket to the surface. 

The colony mapping center was a circular room with three rings of tables, with staff seated at them, and projected screens a full 360 degrees along the walls. The wall was mostly gray at the moment, with three data walls on satellite health, information, and operational details displayed in excruciating depth. One of the more looked upon datasets were ‘interesting facts’ which appealed to a majority of people in the room who weren’t responsible for the nuanced interpretation required for ‘Geostationary Alignment Spacing’ or ‘Observable Space Debris Impact Risks’.   
The amount of data collected by the drones, data received at the station, the number of operational drones, percent of planet mapped, and other easily digestible data was entertaining the crew as they waited for their assigned satellites to give them work to do. For almost everyone except the equator crew most of their time was waiting over the past five days. Unless a drone malfunctioned in entering orbit around the planet once their batches of drones were collecting data they had nothing to do.  
The past week wasn’t a vacation for everyone. The staff assigned to drones at the equator were continuously adjusting their orbital heights to account for unexpected gravitational pulls in their drone’s orbits. The planet was wider around the equator than expected. As a result, the first fifty drones crashed down through the sky, into the landscape below, when their algorithms weren’t updated to account for the height required to orbit a planet larger than their programming expected. What impact the increased size had on Memphis’ weather patterns required drones to observe the atmospheric conditions and have the data interpreted by someone in the colony mapping center.   
The three rings shrunk as the importance of data being handled increased. The innermost ring had continuous staffing handling every failure, debris impact, and had been involved in the math resolving the equator setback. The next ring contained most of the employees involved in data analysis and mapping. Two individuals were feverishly compiling all the information currently projected on the wall while the rest still waited for the outer ring to feed them complete data tailored to their specific output. The outer ring was assigned batches of satellites between 200 and 500 satellites of the 30,000 deployed around Memphis. Each satellite would send its data to these stations and their job was to verify the information wasn’t corrupted or incomplete and split the information onto highways being fed to the second ring specialists. If data was corrupted they had to manually test the sensor on the malfunctioning drone to determine if a second attempt was worth scheduling on the particular satellite.   
The outermost ring in the center had a rush of neck turns as data began appearing on their holographic projections. What had been white boxes were now black with white lettering for information to ease the reading process. Among the information received was a drone number, a data set code, and a sample of scientific readings when possible. If mapping data was in that download a topographic image, photograph, and AI driven feature description were included. After a quick cheer, the seven workers in the third ring who had data began their approval and inspection work. Within five minutes the entire third ring was buzzing with inquiries to supervisors, requests for data set code lists (some had spilled coffee on their physical reference sheets over the past few days), and various ticks that were on display. Coffee cups clanged on the metal tables, feet tapped on the floor absent mindedly, and one worker was humming increasingly loudly until her supervisor pointed it out.  
Daniel White sat in the second ring and began receiving the mapping data approved by one of his colleagues. His particular task was to approve coastline maps and ensure low level fog didn’t alter the images. To prepare for this process test images were gathered from a methane lake’s icy coastline captured on a dwarf planet they passed by as the Mayflower entered the Uruk system. For the first three hours, the excitement of having something to do was replaced with a fight against boredom that blurred his vision on occasion. The information from SAA7646 came through and Daniel looked at the completeness box of 100%, approved the image as taken during the daytime, and finished his check of the coastline without looking at the island visible in the photo on his screen. The tags of ‘island’ and ‘ocean’ were also approved rapidly.   
The next image appeared on the screen and Daniel immediately blinked. He looked at the data wall, took a sip of tea, and then looked back at the image. He approved the daytime, tags of ‘coastline’ and ‘fjord’, but his finger hovered over the tag of ‘urban’. A good thirty seconds passed before he approved the tag and stood up. His supervisor noticed him standing and waited to be requested – at the moment they were busy calculating how long it would be for SAA4882 to reimage an icy valley that was experiencing a storm that blocked visibility and prevented accurate mapping of the valley’s boundaries. Daniel just stood there and tried to slow his thoughts down. Racing past were considerations that he was delusional with boredom, making history for the human race, or discovering a real Planet of the Apes capital city. The worker beside him leaned over and saw the hologram and, after processing for about twenty seconds, screamed and clapped their hands.   
“Daniel found life!”

‘Daniel White Finds Life During Mapping of Memphis!’ read a headline on Shoot for the Star’s daytime news network. The host, Anita Kessel, was surprised by the interruption of a piece on a new breakfast item at the Dysnomia Brunch Room in the Eris Lounge. Her eyes got wide and a producer, trying to move words from Anita’s mouth, began yelling what she should say. He didn’t know he was yelling – he was just that excited. Only wincing once when the yelling began Anita began reciting the words as her shock faded.  
“We have confirmation that the first mapping surveys of Memphis confirm that life has been found. We have managed to get a special guest on – waiting for a name, oh, its Daniel White,” Anita said regaining herself as she went along. Her producer stopped talking knowing that Anita could handle this change of topic well. He disconnected his mic and gave a joyous yell from the control room and left to hyperventilate in the hallway.   
“Hello Daniel. Is it true that the mapping survey found life and it was you who determined there to be life on Memphis?”  
“Y-ye-yes. I can confirm that we have evidence of life on Memphis,”  
“Can you describe what this life looks like? Is it multi-celled, on land or sea?”  
“Um, well, actually its, um, excuse me for a moment.”   
“This is a historic moment for the human race. Can you tell us anything about how you came to find life on Memphis?” Anita wasn’t letting this fish get away. Even if he was about to fundamentally change everything we knew about Memphis.   
“There was a city, a port city visible on some initial images received by a satellite. Myself and others in the colony circle – sorry the colony mapping center confirmed the images as they came in,”  
“How do you feel right now Daniel?”  
“Thirsty. A little, um, overwhelmed. I mean we found a city, and then I was sent here by the Mayor. I still don’t know who knows. It has been about half an hour since I got the data at my desk,” Daniel was thirsty. He felt like an idiot saying it out loud though.   
“So Captain Powell hasn’t been told but the colony Mayor, Suzanne May, has?”  
“I don’t know if the Captain knows. I mean I guess everyone does, now don’t they?”

Pamela Samos was an elderly woman in her late 70s. Frail in appearance, her mind was, most likely, sharper than Captain Powell’s. Pamela was reading a paper tome of Confucius’ writings when Abhinava Gupta entered the room with a big smile on his face. Abhinava was one of the newest members of the Homo sapien Culture Preservation Society and was originally named Jason Dixon before his conversion to Hinduism. Pamela looked up after finishing a passage from Book 3 of the Analects of Confucius which discussed a lack of evidence in records for the Hsia and Shang dynasties of Chinese mythological history. With evidence he could cite, Confucius is thought to have said, he could describe the relationship to vassals and cultural activities of the Hsia and Shang kingdoms.   
“Abhinava, enlightenment here is about experiencing not embracing. We are students but not the faithful. You are too eager to enjoy the Hindu truths,” Pamela said sternly.  
“We had that talk yesterday. This isn’t about us. They found life on Memphis! A city!” Abhinava shook with excitement. Pamela’s expression didn’t change.  
“My work continues. As does yours. You chose this life now you must live it. Outside distractions are unnecessary,” Pamela said returning her gaze to the Analects. She was forced to leave her studies once more seconds later.  
“We should discuss what this means for the faiths we preserve here. What the texts say to heavenly outsiders. We need to decide if new texts should be written to account for such a fundamental alteration of core teachings,” Abhinava proclaimed. Pamela was now annoyed but remained steady in her voice.  
“We are students, not the faithful. Many days have come and gone since the Mayflower began this journey that would test every faith. Even when the Apollo mission landed on the moon many centuries ago the world’s faiths didn’t adapt to humans leaving God’s rock and standing on another. Even when the Mayflower left for this colony some were still fighting wars for their religions. We preserve, we study, we teach. We do not litigate or modify any of these religions. We preserve them to learn the lessons of human existence before the Adaptive Scientific Method.”  
“So we won’t pursue intellectual exercises discussing how the faithful may have responded to this discovery?”   
Pamela was forced to consider his offer. Selling it as an intellectual exercise did make it fit the Society’s mission. Making the debates public could also offer a chance to spark interest that would lead to more recruits. Finding people interested in the religious history of their ancestors had become difficult since preparations for the colony began. Few were interested in studying ancient texts when rovers needed to be speed tested. Even now Zoroastrian studies were on hold as well as Shintoism and Mormonism (which had become its own distinct faith in 2174).   
“Call a Council of the Faiths meeting for the end of the week. Let the adherents know their faith’s response to the discovery of life on Memphis will be the start of the discussion. And Abhinava, please prepare for this one. It is your idea after all – and at the last Council of the Faiths you were oddly silent. I’m going to make you the Elector of Hinduism. I believe you are ready for this challenge,” Pamela said breaking out a rarely used smile.   
“This is awesome! I’m going to be well prepared. Thank you, Pamela, thank you thank you thank you! For the Council will we use the palace?” Abhinava was referring to a converted space owned by the Society, once called Makemake Lounge. Although one of the smaller lounges on the Mayflower, the space was effectively a public community space. The bartender robots were programmed to help in cultural activities and not just prepare food. One of the more interesting events conducted monthly was a robotic lip sync challenge where the crowd decided if the robot or the human sang the song better.  
“The palace should work wonderfully,” Pamela said her smile unrestrained.


End file.
